CHAPTER 112 HOPE (PART ONE)

The twelve old witchers, who sat around the boiling blood pool, were shocked by the vast surge of

power that exploded from Darren. They couldn't believe that the lad could release such power at a

young age. They could only come up with one solution.

"Twelve. Send them out,"

came an order from a strong witcher, while still watching Darren's out-bursting power. They were all

frantic but the strong witcher had to remain calm.

"Huh? Send them out? Should we let them go?" the one called Twelve anxiously asked, hoping he had

just misheard things.

Hardly, his voice faded away when the blood pool bubbled and churned. The strong witcher's command

lingered in his mind, making him tremble in fear.

At the sight of that situation, they had no choice but to do so. With full concentration, the eleven

witchers quickly made up a phalanx with their hands raising up in complex gestures. Then streams of

Witcher Power rushed out and formed a circle of light above the pool. On the other hand, Twelve was

lost in fear, as he knew what would happen right now.

After a while, from the blood pool, a huge paw reached out instantly. As if it wanted to break through

the Witcher Power hovering above. The devil had been suppressed in the pool for many years, but it

always looked for a chance to revive. As the guarders of that pool, those witchers fulfilled their duties to

suppress that devil under the pool, preventing it from getting away.

"Yes, Twelve. You heard me. Send them out," the strong witcher could only reply until then. Twelve

couldn't suppress himself anymore.

"But I'll lose eighty percent of my Witcher Power if I do so. Then we can only suppress it for five

hundred years at most," Twelve replied gravely. It was not that he didn't want to drain his power that

much, but he worried that he would lose too much power to suppress the devil with his witcher

brothers. He worried whether it was worthwhile to do so.

"It doesn't matter whether it's five hundred years or eight hundred years, Twelve. The devil will come

back sooner or later. Send them out," said the strong witcher. Then together with the other ten witchers,

he released more power to put that bloody paw down. Twelve was left hanging with the strong witcher's

words.

Howl!

A loud shriek lingered around as the eleven witchers' attack strengthened more. Under stronger attack,

the bloody paw disappeared followed by a sharp cry.

...

As Darren's horrific power evidently showed, there came frightened witchers. They all stood still and

stared at Darren in alarm. Lost in mixed amusement and anxiety, the witchers badly wanted to talk to

Darren but had no courage to do so.

At this time, a witcher, whose eyes were like a green blaze, walked out slowly. His gesture caught

Darren's attention, but Darren could only watch him silently.

"Sir," the witchers there greeted respectfully together, while their voices echoed in the dark passage.

Then they told something to Twelve in a language that Darren didn't understand.

Twelve, on the other hand, only responded with a nod.

"Go ahead,"

Twelve ordered, and the other witchers left. Then he diverted his attention to Darren this time.

"Kid, how did you get into here? This is not a place that you can easily come to,"

Twelve asked. His voice sounded more normal, and he was more gentle than the others, making

Darren feel comfortable. Darren felt relief and solace.

Cheerfully, Darren saluted to him and told him what had happened briefly. Twelve was astonished by

his story.

"So that's what happened. But that's impossible for you to do that. Not even with your full strength,"

said Twelve firmly. "Let me get this straight, kid. The Devil Conquering Hall has been sealed by Mister

Honor. Even the Holy Lords can't come in. What's more, the duty of the Holy Lords is to prevent the

remnants of fiends from getting into here. How could that even be possible for you to come in?"

Twelve's sentiments made Darren frown as he was deep in thought. He wondered if he had been able

to come in there because he had transformed into a fiend at that time. This was the only plausible thing

he could reason out. However, Darren didn't know whether he should tell Twelve about it or not. He

seemed too scary for him. But then he pondered, Twelve seemed too powerful. He would know what

he wanted to know, even if he was not told. It was useless to lie and hide something from him.

"Sir, to be honest, I think I was able to come here because I have the ability to transform into a fiend. I

had undergone some strange adventures where I gained that ability," Darren said modestly, as he had

no choice but to tell him the truth. Trouble might come in his way if he lied to these powerful witchers.

That powerful witcher, Twelve, became quite excited after Darren's words as his green eyes sparkled

and were full of happiness and astonishment. Darren's abilities amused him.

"What? You can transform into a fiend?" Twelve asked in surprise, almost shouting in joy.

Darren almost jumped in surprise with Twelve's reaction. He didn't know what was wrong with Twelve,

but he felt that Twelve was excited because of something good rather than being angry.

"Yes, sir. I can," Darren answered reluctantly.

"Kid, show me. Quick!"

Twelve urged and bit his lips in excitement. Darren could only respond with several nods and a deep

sigh.

Then Darren did as what he was told. The witcher, meanwhile, watched in anticipation. Darren shut

eyes and mobilized the demon core in his abdomen, fully focused. Shortly after that, his body was

covered by a layer of black scales on which sharp spines grew out. He had now transformed into a

fiend.

"Amazing! Bravo! It's a complete transformation! You did it,"

Twelve praised enthusiastically. And he truly seemed happier. "Well, I am glad to send you out then. It's

worth consuming eighty percent of my Witcher Power," Twelve said, feeling pleased.

Surprisingly, Twelve didn't get mad at Darren so he felt it confusing. The fact that he could transform

into a fiend didn't annoy the powerful witcher but pleased him. He wanted to know the reasons.

"Sir, allow me to ask. I want to know why," Darren said hesitantly. Curiosity sparked his mind upon

witnessing Twelve's unusual reaction.

Twelve nodded, as he already knew what Darren wanted to know. Then he waved one of his sleeves to

transmit some pictures and memories into Darren's brain. Perhaps the power of Twelve was too strong,

Darren didn't feel any pain this time. Memories transmitted into Darren's mind flashed simultaneously.

A moment later, Darren understood everything in just a snap, even with no words to explain. Twelve

was indeed a powerful witcher.

What Darren saw was the history where creatures were dying out gradually. It was a war of survival of

the fittest. During the war that had lasted for thousands of years, the human race had been on the

verge of extinction. Trapped by that situation, some of the stronger survivors then caught some fiends

to study their powerful bloodlines. And they finally determined to ask witchers to help them assimilate

those fiends' bloodlines so that they could become as powerful as the fiends. Actually, those people

had no choice but to use that way to survive. NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

If their experiments succeeded in that time, no one could guarantee that Hiram the Great would not

apply this method. It was their only hope to survive.

However, the experiments of assimilation failed in the end. Every method they knew was used back

then, but it was all in vain.